


scarcely can speak for my thinkin'

by TheMermaidLord



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Bart Allen is kinda fucked up actually, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Jaime Reyes is Perpetually Confused, M/M, Pining, guess that's what happens when u spend 13 years in hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 22:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18061223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMermaidLord/pseuds/TheMermaidLord
Summary: Jaime can’t help but look, is all.-Bart is a tease; then he's not. Wires are crossed and uncrossed.





	scarcely can speak for my thinkin'

**Author's Note:**

> -title from hozier's 'dinner and diatribes', because i'm incapable of naming things on my own, apparently  
> -i think jaime and bart are older here than we see them in season 3 of young justice, but i didn't really bother reasoning through exact ages. also: nightwing, tim, steph etc are working with the team in this because i felt like it and canon can suck my arse

Jaime can’t help but _look_ , is all.

\-----

The first time it’s a problem is during a mission. Kid Flash has been lapping a whole town, impossibly quick, saving as many people as he can find while Blue Beetle and the others tackle the actual threat. It’s a big _big_ deal- the kind of mission that Kaldur had briefed them on _personally_ , head of the Justice League and all. The kind of big deal that sees Jaime fight alongside Diana herself, a vicious blur in gold and red. It’s her who covers for him as he takes a beat to step back, catch a breath from their whirling dance. There’s a smell in the air like coppery blood, like sheet metal.

As he moves to re-enter the fray, Bart blurs to a halt in front of him, panting. He must’ve evacuated everyone- Jaime knows there’s not a chance he’d stop otherwise. There’s a pretty red flush burnt into his cheeks, his neck, dipping down under the costume, lower than Jaime can see. Bart’s glowing, beaded with sweat, and as he watches the kid licks a drop of it off his upper lip with a darting, pink tongue.

Something in Jaime _stutters_ , something bright and dangerous flashing. Bart senses his gaze, looks up at him, his eyes burning impossibly green, knowing, and it’s about when his breath hitches at his throat that he gets thrown through the wall.

So. That’s fun.

 _Multiple breaches detected_ , the scarab says. _Advised course of action: seek medical attention._

Jaime groans, retracting his faceplate so he can scrub a hand wearily across his eyes.

_You serve a vital role as my vessel. Do not allow yourself to become so easily distracted again._

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbles, bone-tired. But there’s a fire buzzing at his pulse points, the beginnings of inferno unchecked in his mind. He thinks, with absolute clarity: this isn’t going to end well, _ese_.

They win, eventually. So. That’s something.

Bart doesn’t even approach him to tease him, stays chatting to the others, after. Stretches languidly in Jaime’s peripheral vision, showered in golden sunlight. Bart’s all long, lean lines and trouble; he’s known that from day one. Still, this really should be his first clue.

\-----

The uniform is. Well.

It’s not something you should notice; not on your best friend. Guilt hangs dark at the back of Jaime’s mind whenever he does notice, God help him, but- but.

Honestly, he liked Impulse better. The visor, the red and white- it was _Bart_ in a way he couldn’t quite pin down, a thought he couldn’t finish. Kid Flash feels like Bart’s living up to something, first and foremost, like he’s chasing down the shadow of a legacy. With it on, there’s something less carefree in the set of his shoulders, something less like a smile tangled at his lips. Some days it feels like there’s nothing Jaime wouldn’t give for that smile, again, and the enormity of it terrifies him.

But he can’t hold anything _against_ the Kid Flash suit, not exactly. It’s close, tight, _everywhere_ , and Jaime’s lost count of the times he’s been mesmerised by the curve at Bart’s waist in soft yellow, the narrow cut of his hips in brash red, even just chilling at the Watchtower as they are today. Jaime’s knocked back by how _small_ he is, growth spurt be damned. His wrists are neat and slim in a way that Jaime could probably encircle with one hand. He’s light enough that Jaime can easily fly him away from danger, has done so countless times, and the relief of it sticks in his chest, tearing at his breath.

And yet he _knows_ , fundamentally, that Bart is probably the deadliest person on the team. That he could end all of them, given reason. The juxtaposition, the impossibility of him sets Jaime’s head spinning. He’s dizzied with something addictive, something he can’t quite name.

Even as he’s lost in it, a steady buzz of conversation continues around him, and so he thinks he’s escaped being caught. And yet when he drags his gaze away from Bart’s right hand- fingers pressing slightly where it’s wrapped around his ankle, his legs crossed- Bart’s eyes are meeting him, flashing and amused.

He feels his own eyes widen, slightly, but Bart doesn’t look offended, or threatened. At Jaime’s panic his smile just stretches wider, easy. They’re on the couches with Conner, Cassie, Steph, M’gann and Tim, who’re all chatting, oblivious, and Jaime can feel tension enclose him and Bart in a separate bubble, something warm and secret and dangerous.

“Lookin’ a little preoccupied over there,” Bart says, and _Christ_ , is his voice usually that much of a purr?

“Yeah,” he says, mouth dry, as the scarab laughs, spitefully. “Guess I'm just tired, _ese_.”

“Tired, huh?” he says, mouth crinkling with humour, and maybe Jaime _is_ , because he can’t tell anymore if this is just Bart acting like normal, if Jaime’s layering over him with his own intentions. He’s drawn, unconscious, to the way Bart bites at his lip for a second, worries it until it’s cherry-red. This is so fucked up. “Somethin’ been keeping you up all night?”

 _Fuck_.

“Nothing worse than the usual. Guess it’s a mystery, dude.”

“A mystery, huh? Those’re always crash. BRB, _hermano_ \- gonna grab some snacks,” he says, abrubtly, standing up. Instead of blurring over to the kitchen area, he walks slowly, deliberately, like he knows Jaime’s watching, and God help him, Jaime is.

\-----

It’s harder without the team as a buffer between them. Bart’s still always over, spending just as much time with Jaime as he did before this awful tension cropped up- maybe _more_. Of course, maybe there is no tension, nothing new crackling like static in the air between them. Maybe Jaime’s just fabricated all of this, and Bart’s only concerned why his best friend is acting so _weird_.

It must be concern- Jaime can feel Bart’s gaze prickling at the side of his face, where he’s perfectly concentrated on the film they’re watching, determined not to get distracted, to keep anything from escalating.

“You good, buddy?”

He turns maybe a little too abruptly, sees Bart stretched out languid in an oversize orange jumper. The sight makes Jaime soft in ways he didn’t even know were possible. His brow is just a touch furrowed, with worry or something else, Jaime doesn’t know. His lips are parted, slightly, and Jaime has to close his eyes for a millisecond, doesn’t know why something so everyday registers so gorgeous to him, so obscene.

He shakes his head, plays off the hesitation as him being just a little out of it. “Sure, sorry. Just interested in this movie.”

“Mm-hmm.” The kid points to the screen, to a woman in black combat gear. “What’s her name, then?”

The question refuses to compute in his brain, for a second, jarring. “Um…”

Bart’s grin stretches, and he pushes himself up into a kneeling position, suddenly very close. “Heh, thought so. No biggie- she’s kinda boring anyways.  What’s up with you? You seem tense.”

It’s cliché in a way that Jaime wonders if Bart even knows about, being from a future without media, but he jumps on it. “Something like that. Sorry, I know we’re trying to chill, it’s just with the Team and school and everything… it’s just a lot, y’know?”

“Ah, I get you, no worries. I could go, if you just want some alone time?”

Oh, fuck, he really is going to end up ruining things, isn’t he? “You don’t have to do that!” he offers, quickly. Bart smiles pretty.

“Whatever’s good for you. I'm sure I could help out, if you wanted me to stay- I got good hands.”

Jaime’s heartbeat stutters until it registers that Bart means for a _massage_ , Christ. He’s certain there’s a blush staining his face, that Bart is fully aware and looking at him levelly, a peculiar, innocent smile playing on his mouth. They’re very close. Jaime doesn’t feel like he’s been on solid ground in weeks, and his world is spiralling.

“Maybe I do just need some alone time?” he says, weakly, after a pause that’s far too long.

Khaji Da, suspiciously quiet until this point, makes a snorting noise. _Advised course of action: tactical retreat._ He thinks shutupshutupshutup at it as hard as he can.

Bart’s still smiling that same smile. “No problem, bro, _hermano,_ buddy, _ese, mi amor_ , I just hope you feel better, yeah? Text me if you do?”

Still shaky from the unexpected return to something recognisable as reality, Jaime just says, “your accent is still terrible.” Bart tips him a salute, smirking, walks slow to the door even though he knows _Jaime_ knows he could be halfway home in the same time.

Once the door clicks shut behind him Jaime squeezes his eyes shut, collapses onto his bed. “I am so in over my head,” he mutters.

 _Affirmative_ , says the scarab.

\-----

It’s pulling up to exam season, the lazy curling heat of summer, and so the Team’s ranks are sparse. Jaime’s here because Khaji Da has insane information recall skills, and can be persuaded into giving him the answers, usually, so no study required. Bart’s here ‘cause- well who knows why Bart does anything, really.

With their history as a good team, and the hit to their numbers, it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Nightwing announces, “Beta squad will be Blue Beetle and Kid Flash, to roll out via zeta in a few minutes,” and yet somehow it does. Bart shoots him a grin, and there an edge to it that’s all wickedness, and Jaime thinks, not for the first time, _oh, here comes trouble_.

And yet, there’s nothing but regular, chatty Bart, when they roll out a few minutes later. No change as they dance around the city, finding and defusing all six hidden bombs within the allotted twenty minutes. They have a good system worked out- Kid Flash methodically speeds through the city, until their cobbled-together explosives-detector beeps, at which point he sends the coordinates to Blue Beetle. Jaime takes to the skies, searching for the telltale red lights, flashes of smoke- these bombs were a distraction, meant to be found, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t deadly. The scarab analyses each bomb, calculates a pulse to put it out of commission. It’s never been wrong yet.

They work well together, smooth and seamless in ways Jaime has forgotten in the past few weeks, when everything’s felt so hot, heavy and complicated. It’s a plan that also has a side effect of keeping them separated for the whole mission, and so Jaime allows himself to believe he might actually survive the day.

Call him an optimist.

It was evening when the call had been sent out, and so it’s well into night and stars are glazing the sky as Jaime waits in the alley by the concealed zeta. He’s already given a mission report, and he’s ready to go straight home. Waiting around isn’t something that happens often, on a team with Bart, and really that should clue him in on the fact that something’s about to happen, but he’s been a little _preoccupied_. What with the bombs and all.

Bart appears at the mouth of the alley, and when they make eye contact his whole posture changes. As he moves towards Jaime his gait is like liquid silk, slow and graceful and predatory like Jaime’s never seen him. His eyes are flashing green and dangerous. He looks like a boy who’s done waiting.

Jaime swallows, feels his back hit the wall as Bart moves towards him. Every cell in his body is screaming on defence, but the scarab is oddly silent. “Nightwing’s got his report. We’re off-duty,” he says, just to say anything at all.

“Good,” Bart says, sweetly, his edges blurring a little as he gets right up in Jaime’s space. “That means nobody will notice us missing when you get around to fucking me like you’ve been wanting to for _weeks_.”

Jaime’s breath catches in his throat, an aborted, choked off gasp, unable to register what’s been said even as the words go directly to his dick. Then Bart’s on him, on his tiptoes, delicate hands curled around his shoulders, pushing forwards. There’s a beat and then Bart’s kissing him, rough and angry and fucking _gorgeous_ , and Jaime’s knees go weak. Oh. _Oh._

Purely on instinct, his hands move, gripping Bart’s hips like he’s ached to do for so long. Bart makes a breathy noise against him, grinding forwards, and stars burst in the corners of Jaime’s vision. Fuck, this is moving too- _fuck_. He just hangs on, tries to keep up, to memorise the feel of Bart against him, but _shit_ , this is all wrong.

He flips them, using his height and build to shove Bart up against the wall so he has room to pull back, to get a handle on things, but Bart makes this _noise_ , needy and desperate. Like Jaime’s all he wants. Like he’d let Jaime do absolutely anything to him, in this fucking _alleyway_ of all places, where anyone could see.

Jaime pulls back, tries to regulate his breathing. He’s got a knee pressed between Bart’s thighs- when did that happen?- and even as he watches _his best friend_ grinds shamelessly down. If Bart looks this wrecked- flushed, kiss-bitten lips, hair a mess- Jaime can hardly imagine what _he_ looks like.

“Bart,” he mumbles, where they’re still sharing the same air, “wait.”

Bart opens his eyes, pupils blown, and it’s fucking sinful. “Sounds like a stupid idea to me.”

Fingers press harder against Jaime’s shoulders, and he forces himself to take a step back, then another. “This is… this is a bad idea.”

Bart scowls up at him. “Doesn’t _feel_ like a bad idea.”

He bites his lip. “Bart, I don’t wanna- I'm not having sex with you, not when-” he gestures helplessly.

Bart blinks, suddenly distant. “Jeez, BB, tell me how you really feel, why don’t you? Thought you were into it, it’s not a big deal.” His voice is high with hurt and a little too fast, and he’s already backing away, out of the alleyway.

“Bart-” he tries, then, “wait a second,” but Bart is gone. There’s a wisp of dust that rises high in the air, telling him that he’s sped off, that Jaime couldn’t catch him even if he tried. He collapses against the wall, ears ringing, the taste of Bart still in his mouth.

“ _¡Carajo!”_ he hisses, alone in the alley. Oh, he should’ve known this was all gonna end in tears.

The scarab is still silent. Either human mating rituals are super traumatic for it, or it’s commiserating. He shoots a mournful look at where the zeta tube is concealed, but it’ll take him back through the Watchtower to get home, as per protocol, and. Well. There’s a chance nobody would notice the state he’s in, but when has luck ever held out for him?

He drags himself up and starts walking towards the train station. He’s got unfinished business, anyways.

\-----

It takes him three hours to catch the train, get off at his stop, and walk the rest of the way to the Allens'. It’s three hours of free time to think that he doesn’t normally get, and by the end of it he maybe might be close to figuring things out. It’s midnight and he really doesn’t want to wake anyone up with the doorbell so he takes out his phone, composes a text to Bart

_heard you like emotionally compromised oblivious bad boys in insect costumes_

and sends it. A minute later, his phone vibrates.

_sure. god knows why_

He smiles, drily.

_check your porch_

A few seconds later the front door creaks open and Bart comes out, not exactly looking him in the eyes.

“Hey,” he says, making a kind of rueful, helpless expression.

“Hey, Reyes” Bart replies, wary. “If you’re here to give me the whole ‘don’t wanna mess up a friendship’ thing, you can save it.”

“Alright,” he says amicably, “but let me say my piece?”

Bart waves his hand in a ‘have at it’ kind of way. He’s practically phasing through the floor, vibrating with nervous energy.

 He clears his throat nervously. “Uh. So. I don’t know how things are, with regards to this, where you’re from, _ese_. But I, um. I didn’t stop you ‘cause I didn’t like you, or ‘cause I didn’t-” his voice stumbles- “didn’t wanna, y’know, do those things with you. But I wanted to do them _right_. You were acting like the whole point was the sex, like that was all I wanted from you, and I know I might’ve made it seem that way,” he blushes, “with the _looking_.”

Bart looks one part cautious, one part amused, one part hopeful. It’s kind of beautiful, actually.

“But- I guess when I think about it- I- okay,” he says, and Bart is definitely laughing at him, now. “What I'm trying to say, _ese_ , is. Would you maybe wanna be my boyfriend?”

Well. At least that shut him up. He looks stunned, pink and pleased in the starlight. Those green eyes glint at Jaime like maybe he’s something holy. There’s no trace of silk in his gait when he walks up close, kisses him gentle. It’s slow and careful and a million miles away from that alley, and _oh_ , this is what Jaime’s been wanting.

He finds Bart’s wrist with the hand that’s not buried in his hair, and, yeah, it fits perfect in the circle between his forefinger and thumb, just like he’d thought it would.

“Okay, _hermano_ ,” Bart says, smiling ever-so wide. “I could handle that.”

**Author's Note:**

> in case it wasn't immediately obvious, healthy relationships aren't really a thing in the future? esp not same-sex relationships? so yeah bart's expectations are a little fucked up but jaime is here for him
> 
> anyways thank you so much for reading if you made it this far!! drop a comment if you enjoyed, or if you just want to cry about bluepulse with me- i'm p new to the fandom but i adore them beyond words !!!


End file.
